


The Friends we Make

by celestieuse



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, I'm stuck in the US and living out my european travel dreams via this fic but like it's fine, Travel, aged-up, post-college, road trip au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestieuse/pseuds/celestieuse
Summary: Marinette is burnt out and fresh out of inspiration. Adrien has finally convinced his father to let him drive himself between location shoots.Two strangers looking for themselves somehow instead find each other. Also, Plagg is a motorcycle.





	The Friends we Make

**Author's Note:**

> If this were a song I'd call it "Along the Way (The Friends we Make)," but this is not a song.  
> I hope you enjoy the fic anyways!

As far as Marinette was concerned, there was absolutely no better feeling in the world than the winds pounding her face through the car’s open window. The air woke her up, reminding her of why she left the city in the first place. Here, on the open road or exploring a new city, there were no deadlines or projects or papers to get ahead on. Tired professors never cared enough to destroy her designs with critiques when she wasn’t paying them to. No, this was her journey, and she fully intended to take it alone.

University had been great, of course. ESMOD had been all she had wished for and more. While exploring design techniques and construction styles she’d managed to learn about business and advertising and how to make her unique constructions sell. Every day she gave it her all, working around the clock to impress fellow students and faculty alike. Three years of non-stop motion was a long time, though, and when she graduated and looked towards her fountain of inspiration and found it empty. So it was off to the roads, her pages on Alya’s Ladyblog and small designs funding her snacks and art supplies whilst she ate through her savings buying gas.

“Assuming everything works out,  _ which it will, _ you’ll be rich and famous afterwards anyway, right? So relax, girl!” Alya had told her just a few weeks before. “You’re gonna have to let your hair down at some point.”

“Alya!” Marinette had whined, adjusting her bun self-consciously. “The pigtails were bad enough!”

“The pigtails were you, though. That bun? All Professor Jullien. And don’t you argue with me--” she said as Marinette began to grumble. “That woman is the most concentrated prick I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting. I can’t even imagine an entire semester with her. Just make yourself a budget, fix up your car, and get out there!”

_ Well,  _ she thought, looking up at the belfry towering above her,  _ this is definitely out there. _

* * *

 

**STOP ONE: DUNKIRK, FR**

France was France was France, Marinette supposed, as she slid back into her car. The trip to the top of the Belfry of Dunkirk had been cheap, at only €3,50, but the views all seemed the same. It was a city, it was France. The history was important, and the architecture was a welcome change from the familiar Parisian streets. At the end of the day, though, the ocean was still the Atlantic and the country was still her home.

She’d stopped in a nearby cafe to sketch and drink some coffee when she first overheard a couple talking about the beach. Stopping by couldn’t be a _bad_ idea. It was close by, and she was already in Dunkirk. Even if she ditched the trip right after, at least she could say she had been travelling to the beach. Maybe visiting family was a better excuse? Alya and her parents were the only ones who really knew about her trip, anyways. 

Having convinced herself and rolled down all her windows, Marinette tried her best to navigate the unfamiliar roads. It only took a few wrong turns to make it to the water, and a couple more before she found a suitable place to park. Hair up and sunglasses secured, Marinette grabbed her sketchbook and her bag and began to walk. It was beautiful, she decided, if hot. The boardwalk was crowded with tourists and locals alike enjoying the afternoon, and every bathing suit was a new flash of color begging to be immortalized. Something caught her eye just before she sat in the sand. Were those flash boards and camera bags? What could they be photographing? And why was there such a huge crowd forming so quickly around the setup?

The “what,” she quickly found out as she scrambled in between much taller beachgoers, was actually a “who.”  A tall, blond, toned “who” whose face was plastered across her walls throughout middle school. A gift to the eyes, her original inspiration--

“This photoshoot cannot continue like this,” a gruff voice yelled over the excited giggles of the crowd. “Mr. Agreste will still be here when the photoshoot is done. Come back in a few hours.” The large man pushed the crowd back until it dispersed, leaving only a few stragglers and a tired-looking Adrien. 

“ _ Merci _ ,” she watched him say, as the cameras quickly regained their focus. Marinette sat not too far away. If she couldn’t watch the photoshoot up close, at least she could draw his figures.

The clothes were definitely beautiful. Gabriel Agreste had been advertising his summer line for weeks already, teasing snippets of bright fabrics and models laughing in the city. This shoot was no different-- Adrien seemed completely comfortable as his lightweight shirts billowed in the breeze. Each pose was more relaxed than the last, and the entire shoot seemed perfect for a vacation or a lazy day in the sun.  _ This is what it means to be a great designer,  _ she thought, sketching Adrien’s face with its gentle smile of contentment.  _ The ability to convey, to dream, to feel…. _

“Hey, that’s really good,” a voice said, making Marinette jump and send a line shooting out from Adrien’s far-too-detailed left eyeball. She must have fallen into a daze again, trying to make her drawings perfect. “Can I see more of your sketches?” 

“I guess, they’re probably better than this one I just ruined, so--” she looked up and locked eyes with the stranger. Green…  _ oh, shit.  _ “Sorry! I just ruined your face, I mean it was going so well, with the-and the- and I didn’t hear you coming so I just--”

“It’s fine, I surprised you,” he replied, sliding easily down to sit on the sand next to Marinette. This wasn’t the first time someone had been flustered around him, and it wouldn’t be the last. “It’s not like I don’t have enough photos of my face anyway, yours just looks unique. I-in a good way, of course!” He grinned sheepishly before reaching out his hand. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Right, right, go ahead,” Marinette said, handing over the sketchbook. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her still-accelerating heartbeat. Out of all the people on the beach, Adrien Agreste was sitting next to her! 

“Hey, these are cool! One of these birds likes to sit on my windowsill back home. And pastries! You’re really talented,” he exclaimed.

“It’s just my inspiration sketchbook, so a lot of it’s pretty random, but, uh, I-I like to sketch the world around me!”

Adrien’s face darkened and he focused on the sketchbook. “Yeah, I seem to be the center of a lot of people’s worlds recently. That’s fame, I guess.”

“That-- that’s not what I meant! I just--what I’m trying to say is--” she paused to think, and took a deep breath before continuing. “Listen, my creativity is my income, and recently, I burnt out. The latest thing I put in that book before you was probably, what, the Eiffel Tower? From a few months ago, and total creator’s block. Your photoshoot just caught my eyes is all. It was something unexpected.”

“Well, if you say so… I  _ am  _ pretty handsome.”

“And stuck-up, too, it seems,” she huffed. This was bad. Her entire image of the boy was crumbling before her eyes. Where was that sweet innocence that used to be in his eyes? Adrien’s gaze was decidedly not on her notebook as she pulled it away and started packing up. “Sorry, but I’ve got a, uh, family thing to get to? And if I don’t leave right now I’ll be late and so--” she stood up, accidentally getting sand in the model’s eyes, “--I’m off! Nice meeting you!”

Adrien’s jaw hung open as he pressed the events around him. “Wait! I don’t even know your name! I’m Adrien, by the way!”

“Marinette,” she yelled back, giving a pointed wave behind her before breaking out into a sprint towards the parking lot. It was only when she’d stopped at her car to catch her breath that she finally looked behind her. Maybe the model hadn’t been the same perfect boy she’d always imagined him to be, but her new annoyance seemed more than reason enough to continue on her trip. Even if the chances of them meeting in Paris were slim, they were even  _ slimmer  _ in Brussels, right? There was no way she could stop now.

“Oh, Tikki,” she muttered, leaning back on the hood of her car, “you always take me right where I need to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> next time: the Ladyblog makes its debut!


End file.
